The Reluctant Jezebel
by Agent Orange
Summary: Julia, the goddess, the myth, the legend, finally gets to prove she was anything but. The misadventures of a girl who would quite inadvertently bring down an empire. Completed. Rated R for potty mouths.
1. American Girl

Author's Notes: You are all going to have to forgive me here. I'm kinda new to the site and I didn't realize the Julia POV thing was a bit of a cliché until I was half way done with it. But at that point it seemed like a shame to stop because this was a _very_ difficult story for me to write and I wanted to see it through. So here it is. Forgive my lack of originality

Story starts way before the series and ends somewhere in the middle of it. You can send me any questions, comments, complaints. This was one of those stories where I felt like I just have no idea what the hell I'm doing so feel free to confirm or deny. So here goes…..

Prologue

Women get a bad rap in these situations. Go all the way back to Adam and Eve, you'll see what I mean. We're the vile temptresses, right? We can bring both men and kingdoms to their knees, sometimes in the same breath. We single handedly took down all of Camelot. We started the Trojan War just by being there. We wreak all sorts of havoc in Shakespeare plays. And now this.

I didn't really do much of anything. All I did was go out with one man, and then realize I was actually in love with another. Men do this all the time. And when they do, us women, the painted Harlots that we are, simply thrash around our rooms for a bit, maybe burn some of their stuff, cut their faces out of pictures. Stupid, childish things. I'm not going to lie. But then we suck it up and move on. Make fun of us all you want but it sure beats letting your country get invaded by Mongolians or something. 

I guess I'm getting way ahead of myself here. I guess I should go back to the beginning. Which, when you get right down to it, is probably in the back seat of a red convertible somewhere around what was once Minnesota.

American Girl

__

After all it was a great big world

With lots of places to run to  
And if she had to die tryin'  
She had one little promise she was gonna keep  


"Are you uh…you enjoying yourself?" The boy looked up at me with such scared, eager eyes, how could I possibly say no? How could I possibly tell him that his awkward bumbling was about as erotic or exciting as well…an incompetent 17 year old boy groping blindly towards third base in the back of his Dad's car? You can't. So instead I said, "Oooooh Yeeeessssss!"

I laid my head back, both so that I looked like I was enjoying myself and so that he couldn't see me roll my eyes. Jesus, what time was it? I should have been home an hour ago. I better hurry up and come then. I completed my performance and the child seemed appeased. Funny. I always saw them as men when I first met them. Big strapping men. Somewhere between dinner and this moment they always regressed back to kids. Not that I was getting on the in the world. I was only 17 myself. But when I was with them, I felt ancient.

By the time I was 20, I was living in a cheap studio on Mars and quite sick of children. I know that seems cold. But I just wanted more out of my life than six packs and the back seat. I guess all girls do. The thing is, when you're a guy, this restlessness makes you a spirited dreamer. When you're a chick who happens to look decent in leather pants, you're a cliché. Just another pretty face who's gonna try to make it in the movies. Wonder how many directors she'll bang by this time next year?

I know what you're thinking. Oh, poor little pretty girl. How horrible it must be to look attractive. And I would agree with you. I certainly don't lament my looks, which were bestowed upon me by a haphazard combination of DNA, by the way. But like everyone else in the world, there are snap judgments people make about you based on your appearance. You have yours. I have mine.

People, for instance, automatically assume that I am stupid. I will admit, I have this glazed look in my eyes pretty frequently, but that's mostly because I am probably not listening to a damn word your saying. This doesn't make me stupid. It just makes me bored. And who wouldn't be bored? There are only about 20 pick up lines in the known universe and I have heard them all repeatedly. Just once I'd like a guy to come up to me and say, "I would like to fuck you."

I wouldn't let him, but I'd appreciate the honesty. And at least I can get the inevitable rejection out of the way without having to banter incessantly about bullshit for twenty minutes. Again, I sound cold by I guess bitterness is a natural side effect of repetition.

And then came Vicious. First of all, his name was Vicious. Now, I knew that was not his real name. But he introduced himself to me in that way with a straight face. In fact, I didn't even quite catch on that this was his name at first. He simply turned to me and said, "I'm Vicious."

Well, this was a new one, so at least he had my attention. "Yeah, and I'm Trouble," I shot back. That was in my clever stage.

"Do you have a car?" he asked me.

Oh God. This was it. This was finally the one kid who was just gonna straight out ask me to fuck him. I was beside myself. "Uh, yes," I said. "Yes, I do."

"Go out and start it. In a few minutes, myself and a friend of mine are going to run out of this bar. We're going to hop into your vehicle and you are going to drive."

"Drive where?"

"Where we tell you."

"Ok. And I'm going to tell you to fuck off."

Vicious suddenly peeled back his overcoat to reveal a gun. Oh shit. A thousand times shit. But then he did something totally unexpected. He handed it to me.

"Uh…." I said. What else do you say to that, really?

"This is collateral. I can assure you that our business here has nothing to do with sex. If you find evidence to the contrary, feel free to shoot me."

"What _is_ our business here?" I asked, voice shaking as I stuffed the gun in my own jacket.

"Your business is to drive my partner and I away from this place as fast as you can at an opportune moment. I can assure you it is in your best interest if you remain unaware of my business."

"And what do I get out of this? Besides the opportunity to shoot you."

Vicious lifted up his jacket again to reveal a very, very, very large wad of cash. Well, Ok. That was something.

"Why me?" I asked him.

"Simple. You looked like a person who has stopped giving a shit. We can always spot our own. So do we have business or do we have business?"

"I take it I don't have much choice either way?"

"Would it matter if you did?"

No, I decided in that moment. No, it wouldn't. In fact, I pretty much knew from the minute this guy opened his mouth that I was in. I had to be in. What else was I going to be? Sloshed by the bar again? 

"Ok…I'm in."

"Then go now."

I got up easily from the bar and strolled over to my car. A convertible. I was always partial to convertibles, in spite of it all. I started it up and putted a bit nervously to the entrance of the bar. I waited a few minutes, and then I heard a lot of screaming, followed by two men running towards me. The first one was Vicious. The two of them leapt in and I took off, my heart pounding faster and harder than it ever had previously in a convertible. I heard some people yelling behind us, and my new partners took a few shots. I slammed harder on the gas and peeled frantically out of the parking lot, cutting off about three people as I skidded across four lanes of traffic. "Where am I going, where am I going?!?" I shouted.

"LEFT!"

I squealed into a side street where I was almost immediately told to go right. I did so, narrowly avoiding an opossum.

"There's going to be a small clearing to your right again. It looks like a driveway but it goes all the way through. That's gonna take you out to 91. Then you drive as hard as you can until you see Exit 37 and swerve to hit it. Understand?"

I responded by taking a sharp right into the clearing. My eyes narrowed as I approached the freeway, getting ready to merge like no human had merged before. I slammed again on the gas and practically flew out onto the road, cutting over into the left lane immediately, and invoking the wrath of a few truckers. I flipped one the bird on an impulse as I veered back right. I sailed in and out of traffic, dangerously, effortlessly. I never knew I could drive like that but then I never needed to. I didn't really need to now. I could have shot them both. But somehow, this seemed like the better option. I saw the exit and turned into it as Vicious told me to take it down a notch. "Casual," he said. I did what he told me and drove slowly up in front of a diner and parked. Parked like it was nothing. Like we were just here for the biscuits and gravy. The two men quickly got out of the car and indicated for me to follow. They ushered me silently into a limo, a _limo, _where we were able to actually look at each other for the first time. The other guy, the partner, well…he just looked like he was born in the back of his Dad's car. But Vicious…there was nothing even remotely eager in his eyes. But yet they weren't emotionless either. They were just guarded. It had been a long time since I had looked into a man's eyes and not known immediately what they were thinking. The limo took off quickly in the opposite direction we just came.

"That was some good driving," the partner said lazily. "You do this often?"

"I think the real question is," Vicious cut me off before I could answer. "_Will_ you do this often?" He handed me the cash. All of it. I had it in my hands.

"Um… I would need another car," I pointed out the obvious, still inspecting my recent monetary gain.

"You'll always have another car," Vicious replied. Was he smiling? He sounded like he was but it showed nowhere on his face.

"Then I guess…I'm in." I felt distant from my own words, as if someone else was speaking them. I'm in? Just like that? What was wrong with me?

"Excellent," the partner smiled. "So what's your name, anyway? I feel like I should call you something when I'm barking directions at you from the back seat."

"Trouble," Vicious replied for me. "The lady has introduced herself to me as Trouble."

The partner seemed gently amused. "Well, Trouble, I'm Spike. Welcome to the Stupid Name Club. I'm not only the President, I'm also a client."

God, he really was a frat boy with a gun. Virtually interchangeable with every guy in every bar I've ever been to. Vicious shot me an almost apologetic glance as they dropped me off in front of my house.

"How did you…" I sputtered.

"Don't worry about it," Vicious said.

And you know what? I didn't. 

Instead I plopped down on my bed and began to weigh out the consequences of my several options. Despite the possibility that I may of come off love struck and naïve earlier, lost in his eyes etc, I was really anything but. The man did intrigue me, yes. And yes, it had been a long time before any man had ever honestly peaked my interest beyond a serviceable roll in the hay. But those were way down on the list of pros, if they even made the list at all.

I had no delusions about what went on that night. Whatever happened in that bar was very illegal and probably very violent. For all intents and purposes I had aided and abetted a couple of murderers. It would be lovely to assume that they were the charming, rollicking good time murderers from the old movies with Redford and Newman, robbing from the rich to give to the poor, making their own justice in an unjust society. It would have been so easy in that moment to launch into an I Love America speech and totally justify what I was seriously considering doing. I could have made it all seem like a grand adventure.

But I knew better. Even then, I knew better. I could chalk this night up to adrenaline but that was long past now. If I was going to accept this offer I had to accept everything about it, including the fact that it would make me a bad person.

The real question was if I really wanted to be a good person. Or the realer question, if realer is a world, was am I a bad person already? I had a family once but we were mutually bored with each other, entirely exhausted with what little we had to offer. In the state formerly known as Minnesota, pretty blond girls were either Miss America or pregnant by the time they were 17. I was neither, and so my family did not know what to make of me. Nor, did I have some driving ambition to be successful. 

I hated school with a blinding passion and could not fathom four more years. And even if I could get through it, it would only land me on the other side of a degree with no direction and a mountain of debt. I had no interest in business mergers or real estate. I never wanted to be a nurse because I would fear the responsibility and I lacked the nimbleness of speech to be a lawyer. I wasn't terribly good with children, even if I didn't hate them. Same with pets. 

I never volunteered and I never gave the homeless guys a nickel. I had never been in love, nor did I imagine, had I ever been loved. So what real morals did I have? Sure, I had a basic sense of what was right and wrong, but there was honor among thieves as well, and that did not make them saints. At the moment, I was not righteous nor was I evil. I simply existed in some perpetual limbo, and it was time for me to pick a side.

And so I chose. I knowingly chose evil, not because of some young girl's confusion or because of the blue of a man's eyes. I chose evil because it seemed to excite me more than anything had previously, because it seemed I would be of more use to the cause, and most of all, because evil wanted me. Good never made such an offer. Maybe that was the point of good to begin with, that it didn't make you offers. You had to go after it.

Frankly, I didn't have the motivation. And so the next night I answered my phone and was greeted by a synthesized voice who told me a green Buick would be waiting for me in the parking lot of Connors Diner. And I went. 

__


	2. I Was a Race Car Driver

I Was a Race Car Driver

__

I was a race car driver

Drove so gad damn fast

Never did win no checkered flag

But I never did come in last

This time four men greeted me, and I wondered briefly if I had already outstayed my welcome. It wouldn't have surprised me. I had generally lived my whole life as if I was disposable. Good for a night then time for a fresh one. 

"Hey, she showed up," Spike smiled. "We were taking bets."

I rolled my eyes. I didn't know it then but I would find myself rolling my eyes frequently at Spike Spiegel. "Who won?"

"I did," Vicious purred as he snatched five bucks from Spike's outstretched hand. "Everyone, meet Trouble."

"Julia," I corrected softly.

The other two men cheerfully greeted me. They looked even younger than Frat Boy Spike. I shook my head in amazement at all these children with guns. I was beginning to think all guys were really just kids. I learned they were named Shin and Lin, though I didn't quite catch which one was which. They left me waiting in the car outside the diner, and in a few moments, they all came dashing out. "GO!" someone shouted, and I went.

I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy driving. I felt invincible in those cars. No matter what piece of shit the Syndicate had waiting for me I would push it, grind it, bend it to my will. There were times that I felt I wasn't driving at all. It was like the car and I was one entity, a giant metallic beast hurtling down the highway. And I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy their dependence on me, even if it was arbitrary. I had been wanted by men all my life, but never needed. It was an interesting feeling.

But after several months, even that got routine.

What can I say? I'm a fickle girl. And my total exclusion from any all and information was starting to bug me too. Which is what prompted me to have the first real conversation with Vicious, one night after he had dropped off the others.

"So what are we doing here?"

He looked at me as if he forgotten I could speak. It would be a reasonable thing to do, since I had barely said two words to him since the first night I met him. The rest of us, Spike, the boys and I…we sometimes behaved more like teenagers on our way to a sock hop than gangsters. There was something easy going about Frat Boy Spike that let everyone appear to relax, even if we didn't really let our guards down. And I quickly learned that Frat Boy Spike was a little odd.

Actually, scratch that. Frat Boy Spike was relatively odd. He would not be at all odd in a shopping mall or chomping on a hot dog at the park. He was just an odd person to be wielding a gun, killing people left and right. Nevermind that he was extremely good at it. Vicious on the other hand, would look absolutely freakish at a ball game, but seemed natural as anything in homicidal situations. I didn't see this as frightening really. I just saw it as being honest about what you were.

So when Vicious was around, all chatter stopped. He was a man who lived for the trade, and people who had time to make jokes had ample time to get shot in the head by a less foolish opponent. I actually appreciated him for that, since it kept me grounded. Reminded me that what I did for a living wasn't something to be trifled with. 

"You don't need to know what we're doing," he replied shortly.

"Maybe that worked on me a few months ago but that won't hold up forever," I pushed him. "Am I in or am I in?" 

Vicious narrowed his steely eyes at me but I didn't waver. "I asked you if you would be willing to be the wheelman. This is the position you were offered, this is what you accepted. All you need to know is what exit. It is in your best interest to be satisfied with that."

"I've been doing my job well, have I not?" I asked.

"Excellently. You have no equal on the road," he said plainly, this time allowing a shadow of a smirk to appear briefly on his face. He sat up on the hood of the car and lit a cigarette.

"So then I think I deserve a promotion. I made a conscious decision to join this thing. I deserve some information. I am not going to be an intern until the day I die."

Vicious laughed, and the sound was disquieting. "Planning for the future, are we?"

"Aren't you? Or are you going to tell me you have no ambitions, even in this line of work?"

Vicious raised the point of his sword to my throat, but it was in an easy, almost morbidly playful way. "Lesson the first. Never reveal your ambitions to anyone." He thwacked my chin with the tip of his blade before he sheathed it again. "I should have known better than to pick out a bored blond thing from Minnesota. I know the type. You're never very content to stay in one place for long."

"Well, then," I said spitefully. "I guess no one's ever taught you Lesson the Second."

"And what's that?"

I leaned into him so that our noses were practically touching and stared directly into his glassy eyes. "Don't under estimate a blond girl from Minnesota."

Vicious smiled, actually seriously smiled. "Duly noted."

To be continued….


	3. Closer

Closer

__

You can have my isolation

You can have the hate that it brings

You can have my absence of faith

You can have my everything…

A few weeks later I got a call a little different from the others. Instead of someone hissing an address into the phone before hanging up, I got the instructions to look outside. I did so, and saw a Chrysler LeBaron sitting in front of the stoop. "Is that my car?" I asked the phone.

"Get in it. We're waiting for you." 

As if to accentuate that point, I saw a pale hand wave cheerily from the interior of the car. Frat Boy Spike. It had to be. He was the only one who would possibly wave. I sighed, a little wary of the situation, and sidled into the back seat of the car uneasily. There was someone I had never seen before at the wheel, Vicious sitting shotgun.

"You still have your gun?" he asked me.

"Don't leave home without it," I shrugged. That was true, nowadays.

Vicious nodded. "Good. You wanted action, Little Girl. You should be careful what you wish for."

I gulped a bit. Frat Boy Spike just yawned. "Over dramatic much?" he kicked the back of Vicious' seat. 

"I hardly think so," Vicious did something that vaguely resembled a shrug. "It's a rather big deal, you know. A milestone, really. I remember your first."

Spike groaned. "That's good because I have suppressed the memory back somewhere with that clown Annie hired for my 10th birthday. God, that was a fucking horror."

"The hit or the clown?" Vicious asked, his eyes smiling in the rearview mirror.

"Both," Spike lit up a cigarette and then offered one to Vicious, who politely declined. He then thrust the pack under my own nose.

"Uh…no thanks," I mumbled.

"You better take it," Vicious advised me from the front seat. "Normally you would have to pry one from his cold dead hand. He's only offering one now because this is an occasion of sorts."

"He speaks truth," Spike admitted.

I glared at Vicious for being so damn cryptic and then snatched a butt from the pack. "So, are you two going to tell me what you're prattling on about or what?" I asked as I took the first comforting drag. I hadn't had a cigarette since my sophomore year of high school. I never liked it much then, but now it provided a mild distraction from the goings on that I could appreciate. That's probably why most people smoke, when you get down to it.

"You're going to kill someone tonight."

I started immediately choking on a muddy combination of tobacco and my own spit. Spike chuckled slightly. "I think you're supposed to ease into that there, Vicious."

"We don't have time for easing into anything. We need you because you are far less conspicuous then either of us could ever be for this particular assignment."

"Which is?" I asked through a wheeze.

"Our target this evening frequently patrons a gentleman's club," Vicious said flatly.

"AKA, a Titti Bar," Spike translated. "You'll have to excuse my partner. He thinks speaking like it's the 18th century make things sound more important."

"So where do I come in?" I asked, already knowing the answer but dreading to hear it actually spoken out loud.

"Well, my dear, you are the Titti," Vicious smirked slightly. "Was that in layman's terms enough for you, Spike?"

Spike just gave him a thumbs up as he leaned his head out the window to exhale a large puff of smoke.

"We've already arranged everything for you. We have a uniform and the whole bit. This is essentially what you are going to do…"

I rolled my eyes at my own reflection as I struggled to balance about ten pounds of wings on a tray that was about half the size required to do so. That and the business of hiding the gun under my serving napkin was a little cumbersome.

It wasn't guaranteed that I would have to kill anyone. I was to simply watch and wait at this point. Vicious and Spike were meeting with a…client, as Vicious so devilishly put it. If the meeting wasn't to go their way, they would give me a signal. Spike explained to me that the guy they were meeting wasn't exactly upright. He also explained that he would be told in advance, and has been warned several times, that if he refuses to comply with their terms that he will be shot. The only thing he wasn't aware of is that the ditzy looking blond who was supposed to be bringing him an extra side of blue cheese would be the one to shoot him.

I knew Spike was trying to rationalize this out so that I wouldn't feel so bad. It was obvious how nervous I was about this. I was scared that when the time came I wouldn't be able to do it, and even more frightened that I would. But Vicious was right. I had asked for this. And I didn't regret it, really. What was the point of being a crook if I was just going to be a small time one?

I awkwardly adjusted my push up bra as I served a bunch of college kids their 6th serving of mozzarella sticks, all the while keeping my eyes on the men in the corner. I tried to gauge how the conversation was going and was finding it close to impossible. Both Vicious and Spike had uncanny poker faces. If they didn't want you to know something, then you had no clue. Then, I saw it. The signal. Fuck, fuckity, fuck.

"Can we get some more blue cheese over here?" Vicious asked loudly as he waved his hand in the air. Can we get some more blue cheese. That was the signal. I swear, I almost started laughing in my nervousness but managed to contain myself just enough to make it over there. They were both looking at me so expectantly I didn't see how it was possible that my target didn't know. He had to know. He was probably watching me this whole damn time. He was probably going for his gun right now. It would take him two seconds and then I would die on the dirty floor in a Hooters T-shirt covered in blue cheese dressing, which is exactly the way everyone had expected me to go. Well no way. I wasn't going out like that. Fuck him. Fuck all of them!

BANG!

It took me a couple seconds to even realize that I was the one who had shot the gun. In fact, I actually ducked. I hid behind my tray for a second, inspecting my body for open wounds. It was in that moment I realized my gun was smoking. My eyes got huge as I felt someone grabbing me practically by the scruff of my neck and yanking me out into the street. The second I was out of there, however, I snapped out of my semi-daze and began bolting towards our getaway car. I leapt in through the window just as the car peeled out, Spike's body still hanging half way out of the car. I gave him a quick yank inside just as we hit the parkway. 

No one said a word until we were safe in the limo, and even then, I wasn't feeling very talkative. I just sat looking straight ahead, thumping my foot frantically against the door in a nervous tick. Vicious was the first one to speak. "It was easy, wasn't it?" he asked me.

I made a small huffing sound as I directed my gaze out the window, my foot thumping even faster than before, which I would have thought was physically impossible.

"It's Ok if it was, Julia," he said, his voice quite possibly the gentlest I had ever heard it. "Everyone kills for a living, you know. We're just up front about it."

I rolled my eyes. "Please," I muttered. "I suppose next you'll be telling me that after we ran out of the bar some nice people came and took that guy to live on a farm and chase rabbits all day."

Vicious laughed slightly as he shook his head. "Death is a natural side effect of good business," he said seriously. "Politicians sentence people to death everyday, in their own more palatable, socially accepted way, of course. Doctors decide who will live and die, lawyers send people to death row, and cops look the other way if the pay is good. At least we don't shoot people in the back."

I looked briefly into his eyes, trying to read if he believed what he was saying. I couldn't tell. But the fact remained that I had done it. When push came to shove I pulled the trigger. And so I suppose I did believe it. I suddenly felt Spike nudge me gently with his boot. "You did good in there," he smiled reassuringly. "My first one was a disaster."

I half listened to them while they reminisced about the mobster equivalent of the good old days. It was so odd, the way the spoke. I had heard about your gang being your family mostly from TV. But the way they talked it seemed to be true. I couldn't really understand how these two people could kill so easily, or how I so readily became one of them. I felt guilty, not so much because I pulled the trigger but because I _didn't_ feel that guilty about it. All I could think was what the hell was wrong with me? Was this in me all along? Was this why I never seemed to fit anywhere else?

"Are you all right?" Vicious asked me again. The limo had already dropped Spike off, and Vicious seemed compelled to walk me to my door. He didn't normally do so, but I think he could tell I was still a little messed up about the whole thing.

"Yeah, fine," I brushed him off.

"Because if you want out it has to be now," he said flatly. 

I froze at the door, key already inside of it. And so there was the reason he was walking to me to my door. To give me an ultimatum. Typical.

"Tomorrow you are going to get a call," he continued. "And if you answer it, then that's it. You're in for life. Any leaving you do after that will be in a casket."

"Jesus, Vicious," I grumbled. He really was over dramatic.

"You and Spike can mock me all you want. I'm honest. This isn't some Boys Club that we run. It's a business. Lesson the Third, Julia. Always separate the business from the man. You did it tonight without thinking about it. The key is to keep them separate outside the heat of the moment."

Something about his tone pissed me off. I whirled around on my toes. "And what about you, Vicious? If that's even your real name," I said hyper-sarcastically. "You and the business are one entity. If I hadn't happen to have been blond and had decent tits then I still would be chauffeuring you and Tweedle Dee around Mars in a GMC Pacer. I've been trucking you two around for half a year and you still wouldn't trust me half as far as you could throw me. It would be bad for business," I said mockingly as I jammed my key back into the door. I didn't know why he was suddenly pissing me off so much. I guess it was mostly because the last thing I needed at that moment was someone telling me about the hard facts of the killing trade. I just needed something human, god dammit. Something clumsy and awkward and imperfect. I never thought I'd long for the days of the back seat but at least there was some sincerity behind those misguided gropes.

"Eric."

I scrunched my face up at the sound of his voice. "What?" I snapped.

"My name is Eric," he repeated.

I shook my head and turned to face him. "Eric?" I asked, not quite comprehending what was going on.

"Yes," he said simply.

I stared at him as if he had just sprouted a second head, and in some weird metaphorical way, he sorta did. There was some strange subtext to his real name. His eyes looked different when he said it. His body language seemed different somehow. Actually…it was more familiar than it was different. I had seen this look before. "I would like to fuck you," I blurted out, giving the look a name.

"What?"

I laughed harshly as I tried Julia Enters Her Apartment, Take 5. "Nothing," I sighed as I opened the door.

"Did you just say you would like to fuck me?"

"Yes, Eric. I did," I said from the foyer. 

"Well, that would be unacceptable," Vicious smirked, his old demeanor instantaneously returning. "Bad business, you know."

"God forbid," I replied in an overly husky voice. And then we paused. We paused because it occurred to us that yes, we would like very much to have sex now. We also paused because it became obvious the other was thinking the same thing. And we paused because never in the history of our lives had the transaction gone so smoothly. We only paused for a moment though, before I grabbed Vicious Eric by the button of his fly and slammed the front door shut.

__

You get me closer to God


	4. Everybody Knows

Everybody Knows

__

The snake is poised and is held by your noise

You charm the life out of demons

You kept me there with the web of your hair

And everybody knows your fate, honey, everybody knows your fate.

That evening was the first clause in the Great Arrangement. Officially, the Arrangement had never been made. Neither one of us signed anything. No one set ground rules. In fact, the first person to even refer to it as the Great Arrangement was Spike. The Usual Suspects, and by that I meant Vicious, Spike, the boys and I, were going over what was essentially a raid. Someone owed us some money they weren't kind enough to pay, so we were going to go in and confiscate the couple million woolongs worth of drugs he had seemed to purchase with said money. If he happened to get shot in the process, oh well. Not to sound naïve, but the guys were generally right about the kind of people we killed. I'm not saying they were all unfeeling monsters but I will say that very few elderly fruit stand owners trying to put their kids through college were harmed in the making of this picture. The people we killed were generally like us, which meant we had better shoot before they shot first. By my third job, I was almost entirely over the shaking thing.

But while we were going over the plans, I happened to make eye contact with Vicious. I didn't think anything of it, but apparently whatever the hell we did in that half a second was pretty obvious because Spike flagged me down on the way to the car. "You two are having sex," he observed casually, cigarette hanging out his mouth.

"What makes you say that?" I asked. Not in a defensive way, mind you. I was more curious than anything else.

"Well, are you?"

"What are we girlfriends now?"

"I just think it's kinda weird, that's all," he shrugged. "It would be very unprofessional. Boinking a co-worker."

"Boink?"

"I dunno. Whatever the kids are calling it these days. I generally concern myself with getting it rather than what to call it," he said easily. I rolled my eyes. The quintessential Frat Boy Spike, ladies and gentleman.

"It would only be unprofessional if we let it," I said. And I believed that. I still do, actually.

"Ah. The Great Arrangement," he sighed. "Many have fallen to its false hopes and shiny promises."

"Look, Spike. Boobs!" I pointed cheerily in the other direction.

"Where!?" he cried, though his tone was half-mocking.

And so the annoying buzzing of Frat Boy Spike was vanquished for at least a few minutes. He was right though. It was sort of an arrangement. I wouldn't exactly qualify us as a friend with benefits sort of thing. I guess we were partners. Every partnership is based on giving one what the other needs, and vice versa. We both needed to connect with something in a purely recreational way. There was something sobering about being with another person after the grisly escapades we went through every night. We kept each other human, kept each other alert. Reminded each other that we were still mortal, with all the included frailties. In our line of work, that was easy to forget.

But that was the extent of our partnership. The last thing any of us wanted was to be tied with those sorts of strings, not when a stray bullet can sever them at any given moment. It was dangerous to become attached and so we kept a respectful distance during the business hours. It wasn't that we didn't care for each other at all. I came to care for him just as he and Spike began to care for each other, and even how Spike and I watched each other's backs. But there was a connection there. A sort of closeness that was born out of our distance. We both accepted each other for what we were and expected nothing more. There is something rare and beautiful about that.

Over the years, people assumed that we were a couple. We never told anyone of the Arrangement, but people caught on. There were little subtle changes that people picked up on. Small little things like the certain looks and knowing glances that come with intimacy. But there were lines we never crossed, ones far more dangerous than simply leaping into bed. And I was happy.

I had a job I came to enjoy, great friends and I had taken a lover completely suitable for my needs at the time. Of course, whenever a person can pause, look around, and discover they are truly happy, they can go right ahead and document that moment as the beginning of the end.


	5. Big Empty

Big Empty

__

Driving faster in my car

Falling further from just what we are

Smoke a cigarette and lie some more

These conversations kill

I was used to getting strange phone calls by now but everyone in the universe gets nervous when the phone rings after 3 AM. I stared at it for a moment before taking a breath and picking it up. "Vicious?" I asked softly, knowing full well it was him and with most likely bad news.

"We're coming over," Vicious yelled into the phone. "Don't go anywhere." There was absolute chaos in the background, not one sound discernable from the others but all of them hostile.

"What's going on?" I shot up to a sitting position, fumbling for the light.

"We fucked up," he said shortly. Pause for gunfire. My foot began jiggling feverishly under the covers.

"Jesus. Are you all right?" 

"No…Spike…we're dropping him off," his voice was strained. Panicked even. I immediately hopped out of bed and began pacing around the room. Vicious didn't panic.

"You can't bring him here," I said hurriedly, thinking about the consequences of Spike actually dying in my apartment. "It's too public. There's no way."

"There is no other way. We can't bring him to a hospital, Julia, you know that."

"What about Gerves?" Gerves was the guy. You know. The guy who fixed problems for people like us. There's one in every organization.

"Dead."

My stomach practically dropped to the floor. "Vicious…" I protested.

"Julia, please."

If I wanted to argue further I couldn't have. They were already banging at my door. I sighed as I flung the door open and a few men, who weren't looking too hot themselves, carried an unconscious and profusely bleeding Spike into my apartment. They had already bandaged him up but not particularly well. Vicious followed, looking absolutely haggard. "I'm sorry about this but I don't know what else to do," he spoke very quickly and in a tone of voice about two pitches higher than normal.

I struggled not to freak out in the noise and blood that was surrounding me. God, he was practically shaking. That was the first time since I had joined that I was actually afraid. Bringing Spike here was risky. If Vicious was willing to do it then something went terribly wrong. "It's all right," I tried to be reassuring. I looked at Spike's damp, ashen face and found "reassuring" to be a difficult thing to pull off. "Just go. Do what you have to do."

"Vicious we gotta go now!" one of the larger men screamed from behind him.

"Go, go," I repeated. He glanced at Spike one more time before leaning in and kissing me softly on the lips. It was the first semi-public display of affection he had ever afforded me.

"Thank you," he whispered before he ran out of the apartment, door slamming behind him.

I heard the car speed off and then turned to examine my ward. He was shaking slightly and I did my best to re-cover the wound with whatever towels I had lying around. His breathing was so erratic. It looked as though every second was a struggle. I thought briefly of the look on Vicious' face when he came in, the tone of his voice when he spoke and I shuddered. How many others were dead? How many of our comrades were taken out for the sake of business? Spike suddenly convulsed violently for a moment before relaxing again, his face almost chalk white. "You're going to die right here on my sofa, aren't you?" I asked sadly as I brushed one of his thick curls from his forehead.

There was another knock on my door, this one distinctively nosey. "You all right in there?" my landlord squawked. "I heard ruckus."

"I'm fine," I called back, then added, "Thanks for asking." No reason not to be polite.

She waited a few beats before I heard her waddle off my stoop. God, the cops were probably going to be here the next morning. "It's all your fault," I said to the unconscious body next to me. "You and that ridiculous partner of yours."

Spike, obviously, did not respond. It occurred to me in that moment how depressing that silence was, because Spike always had a response. I imagined what it would be like to never hear one of his smart remarks again. To never see him smiling in the rear view mirror. To never watch with amusement as he pulled Vicious back down to Earth when he got carried away. I thought about the others we could have lost, and the things I would miss about them. I thought about the possibility that Vicious might not come back tonight. 

I thought about where that would leave me. Alone again. Bored again. Miserable again. It was all I could think about even as I fell asleep in the rocking chair I had originally bought purely for aesthetics, listening to the strained breathing of one of the few friends I had left.


	6. The Ballad of Chicken Soup

The Ballad of Chicken Soup

__

The next morning I woke up with the imprint of the antique wood carving on my face from the chair. I slowly shifted my gaze over to Spike, convinced that he would be dead by now. "You alive?" I asked him.

He didn't respond, but I could see his chest rising slowly up and down and little more easily than before. Vicious always said that kid had nine lives. At that point, I believed it. 

Not knowing what else to do and suddenly realizing I was starving, I attempted to round up something to eat. I didn't have much. I was supposed to go food shopping that afternoon but that seemed somehow inappropriate with a half dead guy on my sofa. The only reasonable thing in the house left to eat was a can of soup. There wasn't anything too objectionable about chicken soup at 9:30 in the morning. True, chicken wasn't really breakfast meat but I could think of worse. A hamburger for instance. Now that I wouldn't want to eat in the morning. I realized I was stalling for some reason so I cracked the can open and dumped it unappealingly into the pot. I thought of a song that I used to sing when I was little, though I couldn't remember where it came from.

__

I told you once   
I told you twice   
all seasons of the year are nice   
for eating chicken soup with rice 

"Hello?"

I froze, startled to hear another voice in the house. "Hello?" I called back.

There was a pause. "Am I dead?"

I let out such an incredible sigh of relief that I think it actually took about three liters of air out of me. "Not yet," I smiled at him, leaning in the doorframe.

An expression of great confusion washed over his face, followed by relief when he recognized me. It was both adorable and heartbreaking. "Oh," he smiled, visibly relaxing. "Hi, Julia."

"Hi," I sat back down on the rocking chair across from him. "You want soup?"

Spike seemed to consider it. I had never known him to turn down food but there was always a first time for everything. "I better not," he said weakly. "I think it might leak out," he pointed almost sheepishly to his poorly stitched stomach. "Sorry about your towels."

"Don't worry about it. I've already added it to your bill," I winked at him while I went back to the kitchen to fetch my soup.

"Were you singing before?" he asked me, his voice scratchy and strained.

"Yeah," I called back from the kitchen. "Why?"

"I think you kinda woke me up. In a good way though. I was having all these miserable dreams and then I heard that and it just…I dunno. It was nice."

I smiled as I sat back down with my condensed soup. "Well, thank you. I used to be a choir girl, you know."

"Shut up."

"No, I'm serious. Every year I had to sing that bit in Oh, Holy Night. You know the part. The _down on your knees_ part," I laughed slightly as I realized what I had just said. "Of course, the priest didn't realize I was actually predicting the rest of my high school social life."

Spike smiled. "What were you singing, anyway? It sounded familiar."

"I dunno," I said through a gulp of chicken noodle. "It just popped into my head suddenly. Something about soup in January…"

"January is so nice. For slipping on the sliding ice," Spike recited rather than sang. "But something something something twice. Sipping chicken soup with rice," he seemed to evaluate his own performance and then added, "I'll be here 'till Thursday."

I looked at him strangely for a moment before laughing so hard I snorted my soup right off the spoon.

"What?" he asked. "That's the song, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's the song," I choked out through my own giggles. "But that was just the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard."

"Why?"

"Why? I dunno. Cause "slipping on the sliding ice" sounds nine times as strange coming from a gangster who just narrowly avoided bleeding to death on my couch," I replied, still laughing slightly.

"Lesson the Third," Spike said, imitating Vicious' over-serious growl. "Separate the business from the man."

I shook my head. "He told you all that stuff too, huh?"

"Nah. Mao taught us. And I suppose the elders taught him. It's like…tradition. None of us have families so we kinda make up our own little rituals. I guess it's sort of cute, when you think about it. Like the Mafia version of the chicken soup song."

I cocked my head at him. "How do you figure?"

"My mom used to sing that song when she was cooking and stuff. Which is why it freaked me out a bit when I heard you. I thought I was at the pearly gates for a second. But she said her mom used to sing it and her mom used to sing it. Very few of us cook chicken soup around here though so we make up little rhymes about killing things. I'm not saying it's the stuff that greeting cards are made of but the principle's the same"

I sighed as I rested my head on my hand, idly poking at a stray noodle clinging to the side of the bowl. Something about his voice as he spoke in that moment made me feel sad. I've felt a lot of things in the company of these killers before but never sad. "Your mom, huh?" I asked softly. "To be honest, I didn't think anyone around here had such things."

"I did once. We all did once. But none of us were able to hold on to them," he said, closing his eyes for a moment.

Just then, the phone rang. We both snapped our heads in its general direction, dreading to receive whatever news was on other side. We looked at each briefly and gulped as I picked up the phone. I practically winced as I touched it to my ear. "Hello?"

"How is he?"

I exhaled slowly, though I wasn't even aware I was holding my breath. "Vicious." Spike seemed to have a similar reaction. "He's awake. You wanna talk to him?"

"Please."

The two of them exchanged brief pleasantries for a moment before Spike's face got very solemn. There was very little out of him except for some grunts or lack-luster "hmmm-mmms." Finally, he handed me back the phone.

"I gotta go, Julia," Vicious practically barked. "I'll see you tonight." Click.

I stared at the dead receiver for a second before slamming it back in the cradle. "More business that doesn't concern me?" I asked Spike spitefully.

"He'll tell you tonight," Spike sighed.

"What exactly happened yesterday?"

"We were fucked, that's what. One of our own sold us out and with that happens, there are no easy answers."


	7. For What It's Worth

For What It's Worth

__

There's battle lines being drawn

Nobody's right if everybody's wrong…

__

  


"Everything's going to be different now," Vicious spoke into the ceiling. He didn't sound like we were about to have a touching post-coital moment. He spoke like he always did. Like he was going over new business.

"I figured as much," I sighed, rolling so my back was to him. I didn't want to have to look at him in that moment. Somehow I knew it would piss me off.

"People are going to try to sugar coat all of this in the future. They are going to try to pretend like this is just some managerial dispute we're having. But I'm telling you the honest truth. We are on the brink of civil war."

I groaned and flipped over to face him, figuring it was no loss since he just managed to piss me off anyway. "You are not telling the honest truth. This is hyperbole. A civil war is a battle within a nation. We are not a nation. We are a gathering of punks. It _is_ a managerial dispute."

"Fine. A dispute with a huge body count."

I closed my eyes at his harsh but sobering remark. Vicious paused a bit, I can only imagine it was for dramatic effect, before plowing ahead. "Again, I know you enjoy poking fun at my expense but my tendency for hyperbole is what has kept me alive all these years. These are the facts: Someone within the Dragons made a deal with a rival gang to take out who they consider their threats. In exchange for what, I don't know, but I am guessing a merge is in order."

"So they want to buy us out."

"Exactly," Vicious said with an endearing sense of pride at his quasi protégé. He really was a bit of a goof. "We obviously want to sniff this bastard out, destroy him and then pay the other gang a visit ourselves."

"And the Elders?"

"Not interested in revenge."

"Why?" I asked. I already knew the answer but I could tell he so wanted to say it that I threw him a bone.

"Because they were the ones who betrayed us."

I sighed. He was right. Dramatic as he was, he was right. This was going to be messy as hell. "How many others do you think knew about this?" I asked, already feeling my foot itching to shake.

"I don't know. Right now, the best thing to do would be assume everyone who survived is in on it. I know I'm not. And Spike couldn't be because as usual, he survived solely on dumb luck."

"How do you know I'm not in on it?" I asked seriously.

"I don't," he did something just shy of smiling. "I am allowing myself a 2% margin of error."

I stared at him for a second before turning back over, hiding the stupid grin that had just appeared on my face. I knew that was the closest Vicious would ever come to admitting he trusted me. 

The next night they assigned me back on as wheelman. I was a little huffy about it at first, considering I thought of it as a demotion of sorts. "Bullshit," was Vicious' response. "You're a demon on wheels."

"She's a demon and she's gonna be chasin' after someone," Spike sang in agreement.

A shot him my patented Spike look, the one half way between irritation and amusement. "I just don't know why I'm being cut. I'm perfectly capable with a gun," I pouted. I was behaving like a five-year-old but I was past the point of caring.

"You're not being cut," Vicious explained. "You're being bumped."

"Oh, in that case," I rolled my eyes.

"Jules, you're a fucking animal behind the wheel," Spike smiled at me. "We need you tonight. Simple as that."

Vicious nodded in agreement. I sighed, which was the closest thing to verbal acceptance they were going to get from me. It wasn't so much that I was eager to kill. It's just the wheelman always had a certain detachment from the proceedings. I didn't want to feel detached now, not when such big things were on the horizon. It made me uneasy.

The job went…typically. By the time I screeched into our rendezvous point for the night, all anyone could think about was getting drunk off our asses. But it wouldn't have been wise for us to go out tonight, especially since the Red Dragons never partied without causing a scene. Reluctantly, the limo dropped us all off at our chosen points, my own a few blocks from my house. But as I approached my apartment, I could sense something was wrong. I pulled out my gun and jumped into the ally. It was quiet. Very quiet. I peaked around the wall and saw to my horror a body draped over the stoop. My landlord. I gasped and shot back around the corner. Shit. It wasn't necessarily anything work related. People got shot all the time on Mars. Still…there was no way in hell I was going to enter that apartment. I walked several blocks down, hand on my gun the whole time, until I was in a public enough place. I called Vicious up and told him.

"That was fast," was his response.

"We don't know that it was them," I pointed out.

"But we'd be assholes if we didn't assume it was. All right. We'll put you up in one of the safe houses. Stay where you are. I'll have someone come get you."

"Am I going to be there by myself?" Somehow that didn't seem very "safe." 

"I'll be there in the morning. And Spike'll be there."

"Why would he be in a safe house?"

"Because he's a bum who can't afford his own place," Vicious sighed. "Don't worry, Julia. These sorts of things happen all the time. We'll handle it. We're professionals."

I had to laugh slightly at the fact the statement "these things happen all the time" was meant to be a comfort. We hung up and I waited around until Lin honked at me from yet another shit syndicate car. With all the money they had rolling in, you would think they'd splurge a bit on our getaway vehicles.

"You, Ok?" he asked me.

"Fine. Wish I can say the same for my landlord," I said sadly. She was a pain in the ass but I certainly never wished her dead. She was honestly one of those few stray innocents that get caught in our crossfire. I felt bad about that, despite everything.

Lin, as if he knew what I was thinking, said nothing. He just smiled and said good night as he dropped me off in front of a dilapidated old split-level. And so this was my life. 


	8. Hope

Hope

  
_You're looking for salvation  
You're looking for deliverance  
You're looking like an idiot and you no longer care.  
_

"Uh…Jules?"

"Yeah?" I snapped.

"You're foot looks like it is actually trying to sever itself from your leg."

I looked briefly to the offending appendage, which was in fact jiggling on overdrive. "Sorry," I said, physically grabbing it to get it to stop. The second I released it however, it started up again. "It's beyond my control."

Spike seemed to find this funny. He reached out and pinned my foot down to the floor. We both stared at it for a moment, and then shifted our attention to my other foot, which was beginning to compensate for it's captive partner. He looked at me oddly, and then pinned down that foot, until the free one began to twitch again. "You seriously have no control over this?" he asked.

"It's a nervous tic," I shrugged, though I didn't feel the slightest bit embarrassed. Odd, but I never felt self-conscious around Spike. "I mean, I could get it to stop but it requires a conscious effort. And if I'm nervous I usually have my mind on something else. See?" I stared at my foot as if I was telepathically willing it to stop, which I kinda was. It behaved.

"Nicely done," Spike complimented me.

"Now mention the fact that people I don't even know just shot my landlord."

"Hey, did you hear a bunch of strangers just gunned down your landlord?"

"And…" my foot started up again. "There it goes."

Spike shook his head in wonder. "You don't have to be so nervous, you know."

"And why not?" I sighed. "Are you guys going to protect me?"

"Well…yeah. Haven't we always?"

I smiled at the sentiment, though it didn't really help much. "This whole thing is out of our control. A bunch of people in suits who barely know which way is up anymore are going to decide who lives and dies. I know you guys like to pretend you're the master of your own destiny…Vicious especially. But the fact remains if these people want us dead, we're dead."

Spike didn't say anything. He just sighed and offered me a cigarette. One thing I always appreciated about Spike, he never spoke to hear his own voice. If there was nothing useful to be said than he kept his mouth shut.

"You know," I started up again. "I think Vicious thinks Mao is in on it."

"He probably is."

"How can you think that?" I snapped. "He practically raised the two of you. You honestly think that man would have sent you to your death that night?"

Spike shook his head. "That wasn't intended to be the blood bath it was. They fucked up, not us. And I think that whole incident only further split the Syndicate on where we should go from here. I absolutely think Mao is partly behind the merge. And you know what? I think he's right."

I stared at him in amazement. "What do you mean?"

"I think Mao is an excellent business man. And I think, unlike the majority of his crew, that he'd prefer to avoid violence when he can. And I think it's smart of us to join forces."

"So why are you supporting Vicious?"

"Because he's my friend. And because as far as my life goes, I couldn't care either way. I never joined for the business."

"So why did you?"

"Cause they made me an offer," he shrugged. "And you?"

"Same." We sat in silence for a moment before I sighed heavily and stretched myself out on the floor. I lay on my back, watching the ceiling fan rotate over and over. It was soothing in a weird way. "It seems kinda stupid now," I said to no one in particular. "That I just accepted this life so easily. Smart people shop around."

Spike leaned back himself so that we were both staring into the ceiling fan. "Rich people shop around," he corrected me a little sadly. "People like us can't afford to turn down offers."

I turned so that I was staring at the side of his face. "What kind of people are we, exactly?"

He shrugged, which was difficult given the position he was in. "I dunno. But somehow I always got the feeling you and I were the same type."

He turned so that he was looking directly into my eyes. I had never noticed before, but one eye was a little lighter than the other. It was subtle, but if you really looked you could definitely tell. It seemed somehow appropriate that Spike would have mismatched eyes. There was just something about him that didn't fit. When I had first met him I sort of wrote off his nice guy aloofness as a strategy devised to pick up girls. And although I was pretty sure that he still used this quality to do so, he struck me differently now. He just seemed lost. Like he was coasting along, not having any sort of actual direction and not really minding. Kind of like me. Most people just wrote me off as a bitch when really I just hadn't found anything worth my undivided attention. Then something very odd passed over his face. I didn't quite recognize it at first, and then it struck me in a bout of backseat nostalgia so strong it resembled an acid flashback.

He was going to kiss me.

He was going to kiss me? Why the hell would he do a thing like that? He so definitely was though. Any second he was going to start leaning in….yeah. Here he comes. Spike's mouth was barreling towards me and I was absolutely powerless to react. I mean…it was Spike. Frat Boy Spike. Coming at me. Maybe I could turn my head subtly like I didn't notice. Maybe I could sit up quickly like I had to go to the bathroom or something. Maybe I….

Our lips connected. And in that second it was like someone wiped my brain clear of all thought. Everything I was just worrying about, had been worrying about, vanished entirely from my mind. There was nothing there except the two of us. Nothing there but the moment. Nevermind that we were camped out on the dirty floor of a safe house waiting for our turn to be shot at. It didn't matter. 

It had been a long time since I had kissed someone without thinking about something else. And that's when I became scared shitless. 

I leaned back suddenly and looked away from him. I could almost feel embarrassment radiating off of him and I felt compelled to tell him he had nothing to be embarrassed about. Really. He did a bang up job, actually. But that struck me as a very stupid thing to do, so instead I got up and went to the bedroom, which wasn't any different from the living room. I closed the door behind me and watched with some amusement as my foot started up again. Ok. That whole thing didn't happen. It was all a dream. The whole bit.

"Do you ever get the feeling that your whole life is just one giant dream you never wake up from?" His words echoed in my head. The classic Spike quote. His rational for everything. It was all just a dream. 

No, I answered him. Life is not a dream…just choice moments.


	9. Wicked Game

Wicked Game

__

What a wicked thing to do

To make me dream of you

What a wicked thing to say

You never felt this way

No, I don't want to fall in love… 

The next night I was so cold and snappish to everyone that Shin actually made a bitchy cat noise at me. "Sorry," I said. "I've just been kinda freaked out lately."

They were both looking at me. One with guilt, the other with curiosity. I didn't want to look back at either, because just as Spike was able to sum Vicious and I up with one glance, I thought the simple act of eye contact would give it all away.

Give what away? All we did was kiss. Vicious and I weren't exactly going steady. True, I hadn't been with anyone else since I was with him, and I didn't think he was with anyone else either. He was a why-buy-the-cow-when-you-can-get-the-milk-for-free kind of guy. Variation in his exploits required additional effort he was never prepared to put in.

But God knows we weren't in love. Right? Of course we weren't. I cared for him a great deal and I was attracted to him, yes. Did that add up to love? Would I have to ask myself that if it did? No. No, I wouldn't. Not that I was an expert on the subject but if top 40 radio has taught me anything it's that being in love is a wham-bang-gee-whiz sort of endeavor. You just know.

Like that kiss last night, a tiny voice cried out inside me. I ignored it. Never happened. 

"Julia?"

"WHAT?"

Vicious almost laughed. "Have you been dipping into the company ink or something?" "Company ink" was sort of a like a code for our drug inventory, though it wasn't really code because everyone knew what it meant. Nickname, was probably more accurate.

Of course, dipping your pen into the company ink had another choice meaning as well. The joke was that a lot of the boys in the Dragons were almost more preoccupied with drugs than sex. Lovely coincidence, just the same. "I'm just…edgy," I sighed. "Landlord shot to shit last night, remember?"

"Well, snap out of it," Vicious patted my shoulder briefly. "Or your landlord won't be the only thing getting shot to shit tonight."

Actually, the evening turned out to be pretty slow. Vicious was having a meeting. He obviously didn't divulge the details because that was something he never did. But it was a setup very similar to my first hit. We were only to fire at the first sign of trouble. Amazingly, trouble never came. He just sauntered out of the building with a confident look in his face as he swung himself back into the car.

"And?" Shin asked.

"And nothing, really. I'm not sure what to make of this guy yet so I want to hold off. To be honest, I'm not sure who the hell we can believe."

"Exactly," Spike spoke up, his voice a little gruffer than usual. "So why don't we drop this revenge shit and hear the elders out?"

"Forget that," Shin snapped. "They led us like lambs to slaughter. I'm not trusting them with anything anymore."

Spike looked down, arguments still raging in his eyes that remained unspoken.

"What are you doing tonight?" Vicious leaned in and asked me. He wasn't asking me out. He really just wanted to know where I was staying.

"Same place, I guess," I sighed.

"Are you sure? No one else is going to be there tonight. The men and I are going to a stakeout over on the East side. We got a lead. There's no reason why you can't come. We could use you actually."

"Honestly, Vicious, I just want to be by myself tonight. If you legitimately need me that's fine, but…"

"No, we can handle it," Vicious said quickly. This was obviously annoying him. "We'll drop you off."

"Thanks," I patted his hand as they let me off a few blocks from the stoop. It was in that moment I began to regret the fact I never made any girl friends.

******

"Julia?" his voice came muffled on the other side of the door.

Spike. I couldn't believe it. They were supposed to be all the way across town. I couldn't even imagine how he managed to get away without rising suspicion. "Spike, you're not supposed to be here," I said through the door.

"We need to talk."

"What's with you and talking, anyway? Maybe you should take a few pages from your partner." The mention of Vicious made me suddenly uneasy, as I remembered one of the many other reasons this was very stupid. I could tell by his silence that he was thinking the same thing. I sighed and opened the door.

"I'm just gonna spit this out and then I'm gonna get out of here," he said quickly as he closed the door behind him. "You ready?"

I almost laughed. "Ok…go."

"We have a shitty profession," he declared, giving away the fact this was obviously rehearsed. "I know Vicious likes to go on about that working class hero crap, but we know better. So does he, really. So everyone has their little distractions, you know? Their little escapes. Some of us do booze, some of us do drugs, some of us do each other."

I huffed a bit, though I know he didn't mean that personally. Vicious and I were hardly the only people in the syndicate to engage in comfort sex. Maybe we were the only ones not to switch it up all the time but that was out of our own laziness more than anything else.

"But lately," he continued. "When I'm with you I don't feel the need to escape anymore. I feel like this life isn't all that bad. And I don't know why. But it's been a long time since I could sit in a room with someone and not be thinking of something else. So I wanted you to know that." He took a deep, awkward breath before blurting out, "I'm gonna go now." He spun around on his heels and practically bolted out of the house.

OK…this was so weird. I mean, it was Spike. I've known him forever. I never thought anything of him before, why was it suddenly so complicated now?

__

But then…I always thought of him. I always noticed the little differences about him, always watched as he interacted with everyone on the team. Always wondered what his story was, because maybe it was like mine. He was always there. He was always there and I could always talk to him, confide in him, joke with him in ways I couldn't with the others. Something inside me always noticed. And now my brain was catching up. 

I tapped my foot on the floor for a few beats and then flung the door open. And there he was. He was still just sitting there on the stoop, rain matting his hair flat on his head. "What if I didn't open my door?" I asked him.

"I didn't think that far ahead."

Lunkhead. "Get in here," I shooed him in with a nod of my head.

We stood there staring at each other, a measurable distance between us as he formed a puddle in the center of the room. My mind was racing a mile a minute. This was so stupid. What would Vicious do? Could we tell anyone about this? What if he gets killed? What if I get killed? What would be the point? It's not like we can settle down with kids or anything. I was just setting myself up for heartache. What I had with Vicious was good. It made sense. It was apropos to the situation. This was the total opposite of everything I was taught. What was I thinking? What was he thinking? How long have we been standing here?

And then he kissed me.

Poof. Nothing else mattered.


	10. Hands Clean

Hands Clean

__

This could get messy

But you don't seem to mind

Just don't go telling anybody

And overlook this supposed crime

"Now what?"

Spike groaned as he flipped over and put a pillow over his head. "Can we talk about that later? I would like to spend a few more hours in blissful denial."

I grabbed a pack of cigarettes off the nightstand and held one in front of the pillow where his nose would ordinarily be. There was a moment of soft sniffing sounds, until his hand came around and groped until he fixed in on his target. He whipped the pillow of his face and immediately lit it up. "In about 15 minutes, the sun is going to peak over the horizon," I said as I lit up my own butt. "Then it will be The Morning After. I think we should try to get a jump on it. The only thing we have going for us is the element of surprise."

Spike laughed slightly as he sat up right, back against the wall. "Listen to you, getting all tactical. You sound like Vicious."

Awkward pause.

"And there's a good place to start," I sighed.

"Well, to be perfectly honest I don't think we should be advertising anything to anybody. We still don't know what the hell is going on and if they knew we were…whatever, then they would try to play us off each other."

"They're gonna do that anyway."

"Yeah, well. Let's not make it any easier for 'em," Spike grumbled.

"So what about Vicious?"

"I don't know! I have no clue. You would know that better than I would," he practically pouted.

"Bullshit. You've known him since…forever."

"Yeah, but not like…in the Biblical sense."

"Well, regardless I'm going to break it off with him," I decided in that second.

"You think that's a good idea?"

"So, obviously you're for the secrecy thing."

"Well, if you just suddenly break it off out of nowhere it might look suspicious."

"Oh, Ok. Then I guess I'll be off now to give him a ritual shagging. Don't want to rouse suspicion. I'll see you later, Spike," I chirped, though I made no move to get up. His face in that moment said everything that needed to be said. His face said, "I don't think I would like that." 

"I don't think I would like that," his mouth caught up.

"Me neither, particularly," I grumbled, leaning my head on his shoulder. It was a simple gesture, but one that never once occurred to me to make in the several years I had known Vicious. He seemed to find simple things a distraction. Maybe he had a point. "We're not going to survive this," I said softly, the realization just popping into my head. 

Spike sighed and pressed his forehead on mine. "I know."

Forget my own ridiculous drama for a moment, things in the Red Dragons in general were equally insane. Though we kept a low a profile as possible, I honestly think Spike and I could have made all the kissy goo goo faces we wanted and Vicious wouldn't have even noticed. We were the only two people he was pretty sure he didn't have to fear and so he focused his attention on the thousand and one other people he did. 

As for who I feared? Well, that line was becoming more blurred and I could tell I wasn't the only one who was getting uneasy. The meetings that Vicious held were becoming more frequent and us Usual Suspects were always on hand in case things got rough. The odd thing was, they never did. Vicious would just strut back into the car, sadistic grin on his face and order me to drive. One of us, we unofficially took turns, would ask him how it went. And he always would say, "According to plan."

And Spike, the boys and I would all simultaneously shift our attention away from him. Because in a grand testament to how backwards my life had become, no news was the worse news there was. I would have preferred for the meetings to end in horrible massacres. I would have taken comfort in a good old-fashioned disaster. Because Vicious was supposedly meeting with our enemies and there was no reason for enemies to get on so well unless they weren't exactly enemies. And if his enemies were allies, then what the hell did that make his friends?

All of us were getting frustrated. Spike took most of his aggressions out during training, which was basically our most full-proof way of spending time together. I had explained to Vicious that he was going to teach me some of his tae-shin…whatever the hell it was that he did. Vicious seemed to think this was a great idea. In fact, he wondered aloud why he had never thought of it. Maybe in less morally ambiguous times I would have felt guilty about that, but for the time being the less I was around that man the better. He had a plan, and when Vicious set his mind to something, he was scary as hell.

"I don't know anything!" Spike growled as he kicked his training bag. I happened to be "spotting" it at the time, but when I spotted Spike it usually just meant I tried my best not to fall on my ass. He didn't know that though, simply because that stupid pride thing kept me from telling him, so he wailed away. "This is the first time ever that I have been so in the dark." Pow! "And Mao hasn't even so much as given me a passing glance in weeks." Bam!

"So talk to him," I suggested the obvious, clinging to the sandbag as it momentarily lifted me off the ground.

"How can I? I've been plotting against him for the past two months." Biff!

"No," I said, gritting my teeth. "You've been smiling and nodding while someone else plots against him."

Spike seemed to consider this for a moment, and then it was back to Wham! 

"You know…" I started tentatively. "Vicious broke it off with me."

Spike froze mid-kick which caused him to whip around once awkwardly before crashing to the floor. "What?"

"You heard me," I sighed.

"You said you were gonna end it," he said in a strange tone of voice somewhere between a whine and a growl.

"And we did end it. Right after I said I would. But he broke it off with me first. I never told you because it was freaky and I didn't want to add to the mounting sense of paranoia around here."

"He broke up with you?" he rose weakly to his feet. "What did he say?"

"He said big things were happening and he couldn't afford distractions," I said the word "distractions" with a heavy dose of cynicism. If I was ever a distraction to him he certainly never let on. "He told me it wasn't permanent but he needed a break. He's doing everything he can to distance himself from us, but he keeps insisting he trusts us…"

"He doesn't trust us," Spike grumbled. "He just thinks we're pushovers." He gave the bag a quick little shove and let it swing back into his outstretched fist. "Our human emotions make us vulnerable," he breathed out in his best Vicious imitation. 

I smiled slightly and wrapped my arms around him reassuringly. "Emotions aren't a distraction," I whispered to him. "They are the only things that matter."

He took my face in his hands and kissed me softly, and we allowed ourselves to be momentarily lost in the blissful void we always created when we were together. It was unfortunate that we did, because otherwise he might have noticed the thin little face watching us from the shadows.


	11. Criminal

Criminal

__

Heaven help me for the way I am   
Save me from these evil deeds before I get them done   
I know tomorrow brings the consequence at hand

But I keep living this day like the next will never come 

I did not like the phone call I received the following night. There was something sinister in it, something in the synthesized voice fueled by high tensions and paranoia. It sounded like it might have been The Call. The one I've heard the boys mutter about softly to themselves as if they didn't want to upset me. But I knew about The Call. The one you didn't come back from. And this definitely sounded like it.

I drew my duster tightly around my body as I approached the alley, gripping my gun so hard I thought I might have broken the skin. No one asked you to meet in an alley unless it was The Call. I slowly put my back against the wall, darting my eyes back and forth. I must have resembled a strung out chameleon, the way my eyes were moving. In fact, I think I was even trying to become part of the wall. Maybe I could change colors if I wanted to. I had never bothered to try.

I heard a sound to the left of me and I whirled sharply around, gun poised. I was staring back into the pale face of…Shin. His gun was also pointed at me. "I'm not here to hurt you!" he shouted nervously.

"Me neither!" I shouted back.

"I know! I called you!" He was still shouting for some reason as he took a step closer.

I took in a sharp breath and squeezed a little tighter on the trigger. "Stay there," I demanded. I wasn't yelling now. My voice was cold, methodic. I knew in that moment I would shoot him if had to and it frightened me a bit.

"Julia…" he said softly, putting his gun in the air in a quasi surrender. He didn't trust me enough to drop the gun. And I didn't trust him enough to take mine off him. Shin, the kid I had tooled around the streets of Mars with for years. 

I took a shaky breath, the sheer tragedy of our situation hitting me for the first time. "This sucks," I said softly.

Shin smiled slightly. "Yeah, it does. Julia, we have to talk."

"I don't want to talk, Shin. Talking is dangerous."

"I know about you and Spike. I saw you last night in the training room."

I choked back something that felt like a sob but wasn't exactly. "Shin…" I said weakly.

"You have to end it."

I rolled my eyes, dispersing the water that was beginning to pool at the bottom of them. "Why? Am I a distraction?" I spat.

"There's dissension in the ranks. Those with power are in disagreement and that means someone else can easily take over. Vicious obviously knows this."

"What does this have to do with me and Spike?"

"Spike knows it too! He's not acting on it because he doesn't care anymore."

"And this is my fault?!?" I raised my gun again in an impulsive, yet admittedly idle threat.

"He has been in love with you since the moment he met you!" he shouted, raising his gun back at me in return. We looked at each other strangely for a moment, realizing how stupid we were both behaving, and simultaneously lowered our weapons. "He would give it all up for you."

"So what?!?" I shouted again. 

"HE CAN'T GIVE IT UP!!!!" 

I ran my fingers through my hair as I leaned despairingly against the wall. Despite the fact I had obviously gotten the message, Shin continued.

"You can't give this life up. If he tries to leave, they will kill him. They'll kill you. And if we let Vicious take over the Dragons we are _all_ going to end up dead! You have to leave him, Jules. You can't make him believe he has other options because he doesn't. This is his life. This is his family."

"Why does he have to be the one to save us? He's not some fucking super hero! He's just like everyone else! Like you, like me. If you think Vicious is going to do such a piss poor job, then you oppose him!"

"Spike is the only person Vicious fears," he said in a low voice. "He keeps him close to keep him off guard. He's the only threat to Vicious' power. This is his destiny, Julia. He can't run from it. You can't protect him from it. But if you try, I promise you, Julia, you will both end up dead."

I looked away from him, fumbling desperately in my jacket for a cigarette. "So what is our destiny, Shin?" I asked him, my voice cracking despite how hard I willed it not to. "Go around, kinda being friends with people. Just about trusting each other but not quite. Having hollow, meaningless sex to mask the fact that we've become total fucking automatons. That's our life, huh?"

"You knew that, Jules," he joined me against the wall, pawing at me gently for a butt of his own. I obliged him. "It never bothered you before."

"Yeah…" I took a long, satisfying drag but it failed to even budge the huge knot that had tied in my stomach. "But that was before I discovered there was something else."

"And that's why you have to end it. Before either of you get used to it."

Get used to it. Before I get used to loving someone. That was the kind of thing I would have said myself a few months ago. How quickly things change.


	12. Oh, Yoko!

Oh, Yoko!

__

In the middle of a dream I call your name

Oh, Yoko! My love will turn you on

Remember how I said earlier that a disturbing lack of trouble seemed to accompany Vicious on his meetings? Luckily, our next outing proved to be comfortingly bloody. Vicious didn't even have time to give us the signal. The closest thing we got was a hail of bullets bursting through the pane glass windows and hurtling through our car. Everyone hit the deck as glass rained down all around us. I felt Spike's long body covering me, encasing me like the world's skinniest shield. I thought briefly of Shin's words the night before. I was going to get him killed.

I grabbed my gun out from my jacket and began firing at what little I could see of the men before Vicious' long coat brushed over my head. "Screw it, GO!" he shouted.

Oh shit, I was the wheelman! I squirmed out from under Spike's protection and grabbed the wheel, peeling desperately into off into the street. I was both shocked and just a wee bit excited to see that the other men were following. A chase! I was a little less excited to see they had guns.

I swerved desperately around in the traffic, trying to set up shots for my partners when I could and making them less vulnerable when it was possible. Both cars rang bullets through the streets as easily as they would throw confetti in a ticker tape parade. I narrowed my eyes, gunning the car towards an approaching red light until someone, I couldn't tell who, shot it out. Well, all right.

I turned sharply into the next street. So sharply in fact, the car went up on two wheels, spinning everyone not attached to the steering wheel spilling over to one side. It also left me completely unprotected, and our opponents took the opportunity. My eyes widened as I felt the hot lead slide through my skin and my hands tightened sharply on the wheel as they turned a chalk white. I gasped in shock as I tried to keep control of the car. I gritted my teeth, tears threatening to spill out of my eyes as I barreled down the street. "Where are we going, Vicious?!?" I screamed back at him.

"The fucking hospital!" Spike blurted out as he saw my shoulder for the first time. I could sense his panic although I couldn't see him.

"I'm fine," I spat out. The hospital. Where was his head? I really was going to get this kid killed.

"Shit," Vicious grumbled, taking a few shots behind him. He managed to take out the other car's tires and they squealed angrily into a telephone poll. "Back roads to exit 56," he snapped back.

I seriously thought I might pass out from the pain and loss of blood but I kept my eyes narrowed on the road. Everything else seemed to fade to black around it, the white lines on the pavement my only link to the outside world. That and Spike's hand, which he never removed from my lap.

We all spilled frantically into the safe house Vicious had picked out for us, just grateful to be within solid walls. I collapsed on the mattress, utterly exhausted. Spike was sitting next to me in two nanoseconds, already wielding a roll of gauze.

"Jules…" Shin breathed in amazement. "That was awesome."

I smiled weakly at him. "Thanks."

Vicious nodded at me in approval and then glanced cautiously out the window. "I have to meet our contact," he said. "Someone needs to go with me."

"I'll go," Shin said quickly, shooting me a brief look.

Vicious nodded at Spike. "Take care of her," he smiled slightly. "She did good tonight."

And they were gone.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" Spike scolded me gently. "What were you thinking, driving like that?"

"I was doing my job," I said. "I'm a demon and I'm going to be chasin' after someone, remember?"

He smiled as he worked on stitching up my shoulder. "You scared the shit out of me," he said.

I sighed and leaned my head on his shoulder, wincing has he pushed needle gently in and out of my skin. I squeezed his hand and he squeezed back. That was nice. Having someone squeeze back. Which was exactly why the next words out of my mouth were, "I think we should end this."

He froze. "What?"

"Tonight, you weren't thinking about your own life or your partners or the job. All you were thinking about was protecting me."

"Because I love you, dumb ass."

Now we both froze. That was the first time either of us had said it out loud. I pulled back from him a little, staring squarely into his eyes. His eyes were still as mismatched as ever but they didn't look lost anymore. They hadn't since the first night we were ever together. God, why did he have to make this so difficult?

"So what?" I snapped suddenly, frustrated with him though I had no reason to be. I wasn't in the mood for the "but I love you" argument. I had heard it before, and it never ended well. Just one of the many other lessons I learned in the back seat. "Does that put us in a different situation than before?"

Spike shrugged, seemingly not the least bit offended by my sudden outburst. "Did you expect it to?"

I shook my head. "Maybe," I grumbled, mostly because it just occurred to me that I did a little. "I just…what the hell is the plan here, Spike? Are we gonna run away together? Get a house with a dog and pop out a few kids?"

"No kids. And I'm not a fan of dogs."

I sighed deeply. "I just have a hard time believing that's possible," I said softly, and more to myself then to him. "When we joined it wasn't really with the future in mind. The others won't care about our plans. They aren't just going to let us go because it's right or because we've earned it or because love conquers all." I was speaking with Shin's words ringing in my head. Shin, who loved Spike as much as anyone, telling me that Spike would be a marked man in spite of that love. Love had no place in this profession, and if you were good at it you understood that. 

"So essentially what you're saying is, the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world," Spike summed up. "Here's looking at you, kid."

I stared at him blankly, trying to decide if I should go with my first instinct, which was to laugh, or my second, which was to smack him upside the head. He always did that. Cracked jokes when it was time to be serious. Sometimes it was charming. Tonight…not so much. "Well…" I said in a low voice. "We're hardly kids anymore."

"No," Spike said as he flicked his lighter compulsively. "We're not."

I shifted my gaze briefly to his fingers as they snapped frantically across the flint. I jiggled my foot, Spike flicked his lighter. We were turning into an emotional train wreck. I reached out and grabbed his hand, both to make him stop flicking which was driving me insane and also so that he'd pay attention to me. "If you leave…they'll kill you.'

"So then I'll kill them first," Spike shrugged.

"You say that like it's an errand you have to run."

"It's on my list. Right after get my oil changed," he smiled at me, but I failed to see the humor. "You know, Julia, not every love story is tragic. Sure, the good ones are, but there are some out there that end quite happily. With a jolly jaunt into the sunset."

"You mean happily ever after," I said.

"Well, sure. Why not?"

"Nothing can end happily ever after," I said matter of factly.

"Oh really? How so?"

"Something can't end if it's supposed to be ever after. Ever after is forever. Forever doesn't have an end," I nodded, pleased with my theorem. I had just made that up too.

Spike considered this for a moment before asking, "So what?"

"I guess my point is that ever after is a long ass time, Spike," I sighed, gingerly inspecting my shoulder. "I love you too," I admitted at last. "But I'm on my last pair of glass slippers."

Spike leaned back against the wall with a pensive expression. "They got to you, didn't they?"

That sort of took me by surprise. "What are you talking about?"

"Shin, Lin, Mao…someone talked to you. About how I'm throwing my life away for a woman. How it's my destiny to lead the Dragons into greatness."

I didn't say a word, but something must have shown on my face, because he sighed and said, "Thought so."

"I don't want to be The Girl, Spike. The face that launched a thousand ships and all that shit. The hussy that came between friends. People have been pegging me as a home wrecker my whole life and damn it all if I prove them right."

Spike took that opportunity to kiss me, and I silently cursed him for it. "I want you to understand something," he said gently. "And then what you decide to do is your call. I would rather die for something I believe in than live the rest of my life doing someone else's bidding. And I believe in you. I will believe in you until the day I die…even if that happens to be tomorrow."

I thought for a second that I was going to cry and then decided that would be something The Girl would do. So instead I just threw my arms around him and kissed him passionately back.

"Interesting…"

I saw Spike's eyes widen under mine as we snapped back from each other. Vicious was leaning in the doorway, Shin lurking somewhere behind him. He refused to look at us, but Vicious refused to look away. "Very interesting."

Neither of us said a god damned word. What could we say? So we stared at him dumbly. I thought absurdly back to my old apartment and how I used to catch my landlord's cats having sex when I turned the porch light on. I imagined we looked something like that.

"Well," Vicious said, his voice colder than I had ever heard it. Both of us actually shuddered. "I suppose we better regroup and discuss our future plans. Busy day tomorrow."


	13. Paint it Black

Paint it Black

__

I look inside myself and see my heart is black  
I see my red door and it has been painted black  
Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts  
It's not easy facing up when your whole world is black 

Vicious had just gone on as if the whole thing hadn't happened, laying out the course of action for the following day. But there were other calculations going on behind his eyes, ones that no one could even guess. I did not take my eyes off of him once the entire time, and he barely took his off me. He seemed to be looking at me with an expression of pity. Cold pity…as if he only pitied the fate he himself was about to create for me. But still pity. He was the only one of the four of us speak at all for the rest of the night. Tomorrow, the Usual Suspects were going to launch a counter attack. "I want to make sure I have your full cooperation on this," he asked in such a hissing, sinister voice no one dared to argue. "Because I can promise you not all of us will be coming back this time."

His gaze shifted squarely at Spike, but Spike did not look away. They continued to stare at each other for a moment, both of their poker faces in full glory. No one in that room had the foggiest idea what either of them were really thinking in that moment but I knew, we all knew, that there was a secret conversation going on in those stares. Two fates were silently being sealed, and all anyone could do was watch.

The following day, Spike insisted that I not go along on the mission. "He's going to fucking kill you," I argued, trying to ignore the fact that I thought I might actually throw up from nervousness.

Spike went on as if he hadn't heard me. "I'll say Mao put you on assignment. Lin's pretty decent behind the wheel."

"And he'll believe you?"

"He's not gonna care, Jules. He'll "believe" whatever I say," he took a slight pause. "Look, it's only a set up if I don't know it's a set up. I can't refuse to go."

"Yes, God forbid we break gangster protocol," I muttered, though I knew I was being a huge hypocrite. I myself was pretty sure I received The Call only a few nights prior and I went. I went preparing to fight, but I went. There really was a certain amount of honor among thieves.

"Jules, I'll be fine. I know Vicious. I know how he operates. I'm coming back from this thing, I promise you." My face must not have looked too comforting because he added, "Don't you trust me?"

"With _my_ life, absolutely. With your own, about half as far as I could throw you."

Spike screwed his face up momentarily as if he was trying to figure out exactly how big a measurement that was. "I'll take it," he shrugged. 

"Spike…" I argued feebly.

"I go, you stay," he said in his best cave man voice. "No sense in both of us getting cacked."

"Ok, can you please say something else? I would hate the word "cacked" to be the last thing you ever say to me."

"How about…I love you."

"Better," I kissed him. 

"Bellybutton," he replied.

"What?"

"My last word is now bellybutton. I want it on my tombstone. I'm counting on you to fulfill my dying wish."

Again. Not sure whether to laugh or to beat him senseless. I opted to just tell him I loved him and then he was off. And I was left to wait.

So of course, when the phone rang that evening I was more tempted to pick it up and chuck it across the room than to answer it. "Hello," I said in a small voice.

It was Shin. I didn't even listen to him. I knew what he was going to say. I just nodded and then hung up the phone. I didn't cry. I didn't wail. I didn't drop down to my knees in a fit of dramatic anguish. I simply stormed out of my house and hi jacked the next car to Vicious' office.

I practically kicked his door down. We stared at each from across the room, neither one knowing what to say. He was waiting for me to make the first move. He knew I had the right. That, and I don't think he really knew what I was going to do. I enjoyed that, and I took a moment to relish it. Leave him guessing, if only for a little while. But I also knew that this was not the time to play games. "Why?" I asked him. I didn't shout. I didn't thrash around like a maniac. I didn't ask like The Girl. I asked like someone doing business.

He smiled slightly, though I couldn't quite read what he meant by the smile. "I think you know."

"I know you," I snapped back. "And I know us. Spike and I had nothing to do with this. So what was it?"

Vicious leaned casually on his sword as if he was amused by all of this, but there was something else there too. Sadness, I think, and that threw me. "And why, Julia, do you find it so difficult to believe I was caught up in a jealous rage? We all want love, don't we? Even the most vile, contemptible human beings?"

I cocked my head at him, not entirely sure if he was being serious. "So you're saying we were in love now?"

"Love has nothing to do with it," he sighed. "Spike has not fallen out of my good graces because of the love of a woman. Even my woman, though I hardly ever considered you my property."

"How very liberal minded of you," I snarled. "So what is the real reason?"  


"I never swore love to you, Julia. And you never to me. The issue is not that I would be willing to throw it all away over a woman, the issue is that Spike would. And that, Julia, is the betrayal."

I narrowed my eyes into angry slits. "Bullshit."

"Do tell," he smirked.

"He had the respect of your elders and the love of your men. They would follow him anywhere if he chose to lead them. With you it was only out of fear and a lack of other options. And to make it worse…he liked you. He was your worst rival and he didn't even have the courtesy to see you as an enemy. Separate the business from the man, Vicious. This wasn't a betrayal. This was an excuse."

He approached me slowly but in big, powerful steps. He stopped inches in front of me, as if he was trying to stare me down. I had to look up at him to stare back but I did not waver. "If it was, you provided me with it. So for that, I thank you, Julia," he unsheathed his weapon and placed the blade against my stomach. "So the only question that remains is for you. Do you join me and rule over what you have created? Or do you join your sweet prince?"

I thought he might have sliced me open then, but instead he just blew by me on a cloud of arrogance and black fabric. And then it hit me.

Spike was dead. 

I sat numbly on the edge of the table. He was gone and with him all of these new ideals I suddenly advocated. If he was gone, what did it matter? One day would be just like the rest, whether in the ground or in the syndicate. I rubbed my eyes, wiping away the first and last tear I ever shed for him. Somehow, it seemed it was only worth feeling things if he was there to feel with me.


	14. Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses?

Who's Gonna Ride You're Wild Horses?

Riiiiiiiiinnnnngggggg.

The fucking phone. This time, I actually did pick it up and punt it across the room. Just kicked it. Bam. I watched with deep satisfaction as it cracked on the floor, the ring choked and garbled as it stopped midway. "Hello?"

My eyes almost bugged out of my head. I was totally losing it. I had to be.

"Julia, pick up the phone before I'm traced already!!"

I actually made a diving leap for the receiver, my worst enemy of a few minutes ago suddenly becoming my guardian angel. "Hello?!?" I shouted for some reason.

"Meet me tomorrow night by the cemetery on 34th. We're getting out of here."

"Where are we going to go?"

"I dunno. Haven't thought that far ahead."

Click.

And then I wept. I wept over what I almost lost, wept for what I just got back and wept because hearing his voice made me feel like I was capable of weeping again. I just sat on the floor sobbing like a complete idiot for what had to be 10 minutes straight. Then I started thinking about tomorrow night and then the last thing I felt like doing was weeping.

Ok…what does one pack when they are planning on disappearing? I decided…nothing. If I vanished without my clothes than surely people would think some terrible fate had befallen me. I would bring nothing but my gun. I picked it up to load it, the barrel pointing vaguely in the direction of the doorway. I gasped slightly as I realized that Vicious had suddenly appeared in it. I stood staring at him, my gun still awkwardly raised.

"If you leave tonight, we will hunt you down like a dog," he said simply. "Nothing personal, mind you. Company policy." 

"And what makes you think I'm leaving?"

"You're meeting him, aren't you?"

I tried to look shocked but found I just wasn't. Nothing out of his mouth shocked me anymore. "You got what you wanted," I said in a low voice, shoving my gun in my jacket. I knew Vicious would not kill me here in cold blood. A good business man was more discreet. "He's leaving. He's no longer a threat to you."

"Of course he's a threat. No one leaves knowing what the two of you know. You knew that from the beginning. These are not rules I made up. So I'm going to make you an offer," he sat on the edge of my table. "You kill him tonight and you're granted immunity. I'm not doing this to torture you," he added, observing my seething glare. "I'm doing this because it makes sense. If you don't, I'll have no choice but to kill you both."

"Fuck you."

"We've already had that pleasure. I'm quite over it now."

I stared a million daggers into him before he dared to continue.

"I will say this, Julia. If you were the one to pull the trigger, it would be a good, clean death. I can assure you he won't get such an offer from the Syndicate. So your choices are essentially to end your misery in one fell, painless swoop, or spend a lifetime looking over your shoulder, dreading the day I catch up with you. And I will. And you know it."

At some point in the conversation I had turned my back on him, and now I refused to face him. I wouldn't let him see the doubt plaguing my face, the fear that suddenly settled there. I didn't fear anything from him anymore. But I feared for Spike. And I feared whatever my next move was here could be his undoing. I feared I would loose him as quickly as I had gained him back. "Get out," I said through gritted teeth. And he did.

And I was left alone with a thousand horrible thoughts, two hours time, and one gun.

__

Well, you stole it because I needed the cash

I walked numbly down the street, allowing the rain to soak me through and not caring. So it had all come down to this. The feeble glimpse at happily ever after so quickly torn to shreds with the promise of a single bullet. If I left with him tonight, it wouldn't be an escape. It would be a mad dash into the downward spiral, constantly fearing what was around the next bend. What peace would there be for the two of us? 

But then, what kind of lame justification was that to kill your lover?

__

You killed it because I wanted revenge

The rain was fat. Those thick, splattery drops that sort of hurt you when they fell, ricocheting off your eyelashes and bouncing off your nose. Miss Minnesota, trudging through the mud with a trench coat and a loaded gun. There was a headline. Former Homecoming Queen on Lam with Mobster Boyfriend. Front page in the tabloids, truly the pinnacle of every trailer princess' career. After all my running away, I was right back where I started, narrowly avoiding life as a punch line on the late night talk shows. Why did I ever think I could have otherwise? Because of him? Did I really believe him all this time? Did he believe himself?

__

You lied to me because I asked you to

I spotted him waiting in the rain, faint glow of a cigarette lighting the way like some perverse beacon. I ducked briefly back into the alley, not quite sure what I should do. Should I run to him? Throw my arms around him and run gaily off into the sunset? 

We didn't even have a sunset. It was a murky, gray, miserable night. Maybe that was God telling us we had a snowballs chance. Funny, I never considered God's role in any of this until that moment. I never really considered God at all before. And I certainly wasn't considering Him as I raised my weapon, barrel waving shakily in the rain. Maybe this was more humane. Not every dog wound up on the farm chasing rabbits all day. 

Rabbits. Think of the rabbits, Spike, I thought cynically, my gun still pointed on him from a distance. Think of the happiest place in the world and I'll put you there. My gun clicked sinisterly and my hand stopped shaking. Maybe he knew I was there. Maybe he knew what I was about to do.

__

Baby, can we still be friends?

And then I thought of a third option. Maybe the most difficult one of all. I could run to him and drag him down with me. I could destroy him and accept my own destiny. Or…

Or I could let him go.

He was smart. He was bright. He was resourceful. He was the indomitable Spike and he could make it on his own. The two of us didn't have much of a chance but separately…separately we could make it. We could start new lives. We could disappear. But if I were to do this, I couldn't tell him. I would have to make him believe I gave him up. Make him move on. I would have to do what I should have done in the first place. I would have to say goodbye. Slowly, I put down the gun.

__

The deeper I spin  
The hunter will sin for your ivory skin

And best of all, Vicious would not be expecting it. It would throw him for a long time, because the places we'd go together were not the ones we would go apart. He would go off somewhere to forget. Crawl off somewhere to lick the wounds that I had given to him. But he was still Spike. And he'd keep going. He'd have to. Because if I left him standing there in the rain he wouldn't be positive that I wasn't still out there somewhere waiting. 

__

Took a drive in the dirty rain  
To a place where the wind calls your name  


Now all I had to do was turn around. I just had to leave. Run in the opposite direction, never knowing if I'd hear his voice again. I would go off somewhere alone, knowing he was still out there somewhere and that I couldn't be with him. Did I have the strength for that? For him, I would try.

__

Hallelujah, heavens white rose  
The doors you open  
I just can't close  


I started running. Gun still out in the open, tears mixing freely with the rain as I pounded the pavement. I ran blindly, freely, leaping over any obstacle in my way just as long as I got away from him. Freed myself from his temptation, escaped the promises we kept making ourselves. The promises we knew we'd break anyway. I ran from his eyes, those goofy mismatched eyes that were both so young and so old, especially when he smiled. I just ran. 

__

Come on now love, don't you look back  


And when I felt like I had gotten far enough away, I stopped. I was panting in an alley somewhere, back against the wall. Fuck, I needed a smoke. I dug through my coat and emerged with a lighter. His lighter. I examined it, trying to see if there was anything remarkable about it, other then it was his. It was a standard Bic. Pink. He always said he liked the color pink. He said pink and guys together confused people. People didn't know what to make of a guy who fancied pink. He always liked to keep people guessing. He was a strange man.

__

Who's going to ride your wild horses?

He was a beautiful man.

__

Who's going to drown in your blue sea?

He was a bit of a crazy man.

__

Who's going to taste your salt water kisses?

But he wasn't my man anymore. 

__

Who's going to take the place of me?


	15. Epilogue

Epilogue

__

And as I leave, I know that I am leaving my best friend

A friend who taught me right from wrong

And weak from strong

That's a lot to learn

What can I give you in return?

Years passed. How easily that sentence comes out. Years passed. As if that wasn't a significant amount of time. In a way, it wasn't. Every day was pretty much the same after that. Just as monotonous as it would have been back with the Dragons or buried in a box because I didn't have him to keep things interesting. But there was one crucial difference. He was out there somewhere.

The very idea of him was enough some days. Maybe not all days, but I was willing to settle, keeping my eyes and ears alert for news that I was found. That he was found. That our past has caught up with us at last. But so far, that news hadn't come.

I saw him once. I spotted him just once and only once in all those years. He didn't see me. He was preoccupied with the cost of mangoes.

He was with a woman when I saw him and it was she who apparently had a craving for mangoes. He was explaining…well, shouting really, that they didn't have money for mangoes and he would rather spend the cash on some sort of meat product. As soon as I heard his voice I had ducked behind a cart somewhere off in the distance, far enough that he wouldn't notice me unless he was searching but close enough so that I could hear him. Of course, I was curious about the woman. 

She was cute. She was almost girl next door looking, with her bright eyes and short haircut, except that she dressed like a hooker. 

Look, Spike. Boobs.

She didn't seem like his type at all, but then I realized that I really meant she didn't look at all like me. They were arguing but I decided it didn't sound like a couple arguing. I knew what that sounded like. Spike and I fought more frequently than memory would sometimes admit. Their arguing was just familiar sounding. Routine. But also sort of friendly. 

It reminded me a bit of the way he talked to the guys. In fact, it even sounded a bit like Spike and Vicious in simpler times. The sort of gentle ribbing of an opposites attract kind of friendship. It made me happy to hear them. And it also made me happy because their body language indicated they hadn't slept together. Good to know. They were joined eventually by a big, gruff looking man with these warm, tired eyes. He seemed irritated by their conversation. He also seemed to be passing some sort of judgement on the proceedings. Yep. One mango for the girl. She seemed pleased enough with the spoils of her efforts and she strutted on up ahead as the men hung back to buy some fish…though one less then they had originally planed.

So this big guy was the leader. I had to laugh. Spike was never much for leading anyone. But at the same time he was never much for following either. Was that admirable?

Damned if I knew. Damned if I knew anything. But even if our past hunted us down eventually, I knew in my heart that I gave him a few years of freedom. Maybe it wasn't the happy ending we wanted, but it was about as close as we could ever get.

I turned away from him again, but this time there was no need to run. I was older now. Wiser…maybe even mature. A far cry from the girl who introduced herself as Trouble in a seedy bar all those years ago. And I suppose that had to count for something.

Till we meet again, Spike Spiegel.

__

TO SIR, WITH LOVE

_______________

Whew. That was so difficult for me to write but a cool experience in the long run. I hope it was an entertaining read. If anyone has any questions or comments about anything feel free to drop me a line.

Big, big thanks going out to the boys from U2 for writing Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses? It was the single inspiration for this story and I think it is the quintessential Spike/Julia song. I also have a quintessential Spike/Faye song. And a song for every book I ever read, every significant moment of my life, each year of school, every summer, every relationship and last Tuesday. I'm nuts like that.

Additional musical credits are as follows: Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, Primus, Nine Inch Nails, James, Stone Temple Pilots, Maurice Sendak and Carol King, Buffalo Springfield, REM, Chris Issac, Alanis Morrisette, Fiona Apple, John Lennon, The Rolling Stones, U2 and I think Jann Arden, although that song has been covered so many damn times I'm not really sure. 

And thank you so much for reading. And a special shout out to my groupies. You know who you are. I have 30 something reviews and like…seven reviewers. You guys rock. Thank you.

Agent Orange out


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